


Softly Sweet

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [6]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Asexual Avon, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Season/Series 02, there is the tiniest tiniest bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: Vila wants to cheer Avon up, and what better occasion for that than his upcoming birthday?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as part of a little ficlet series I'm working on based on "Things you said" prompts that I was going to post as one story, but a) this one spiralled out of control and b) I really wanted to post it today and the others aren't done yet. It was, originally, "things you said at the kitchen table", and this is probably as fluffy as I can possibly be at this length of fic (foreshadowing is sooo hard to avoid in this fandom). And really this was pure and simple tooth-rottingly sweet self-indulgence (and just a little bit for you, too, Roz. ;)). 
> 
> It is part of my ace!Avon series as all the other "Things you said" ficlets also are, but there's next to no allusion to sexual orientation at all in this fic. Again, it works perfectly as standalone.
> 
> As always, the title is from Poets of the Fall lyrics. I could literally have titled this "Hello, Happy Birthday" and still have it be their lyrics, but that was way too easy.

“What is _that_ , Vila?”

Avon had been in a foul mood lately – tense and stressed and struggling with insomnia and an aching back despite Vila’s best efforts, and so Vila had planned. Putting the cogs in motion with delicate care, like picking a maximum security lock. He’d roped in Blake, in the end, just to make sure he’d leave off Avon for a day. Turned out, Blake knew, somehow. Perhaps he’d also stumbled across Avon drinking on his own a year earlier, like Vila had. Not that he thought Avon remembered. It wasn’t easy keeping the planning from Avon, but Blake helped, and it wasn’t as though Vila had anything to feel guilty about. That, he was sure, Avon would somehow have smelled.

“What does it look like, Avon?” Vila chimed back at him cheerfully, refusing to be deterred by Avon’s dark scowl.

It was testimony to Avon’s exhaustion that he just sighed, shoved off his boots, and sidestepped Vila sitting at his desk to lie down on the bed, curling his back to the room. He hadn’t even bothered to undress, let alone get under the covers. Avon _hated_ sleeping on top of the covers.

 _This_ wasn’t at all what Vila had planned. “You aren’t even going to look at it?” he asked, trying to keep the crushing disappointment out of his voice. This was _for_ Avon. If Avon didn’t want to, _Vila_ had no right to complain.

“Tomorrow, Vila.”

But he could keep trying. “I think you should look at it tonight.”

Avon’s back tensed. “I _think_ –!” he started, sounding angry through the thick exhaustion, but cut himself off, and slowly turned onto his back. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then glanced over at Vila. “Promise me the reason that I need to look at it _now_ isn’t going to keep me up tonight.”

“That depends on you, really, but no, you won’t need to move from there tonight.”

Avon looked doubtful, but reached out his hand. “Very well. Give it here.”

Vila grinned, and passed over the slim bright-turquoise envelope he’d propped up against Avon’s tool case on his worktable. Vila had selected the colour mainly because nothing in Avon’s cabin matched it, so if Avon had found his way back into his cabin without Vila there he’d have noticed. Not that Avon had been in his room a lot these past days, except to catch one or two hours of sleep.

Avon moved slowly, pulling the envelope’s flap open with great care. “You realise that if you want to send me a message you can use the _Liberator_ ’s communication circuits? There is no need to use paper.”

Vila knew, of course – the private messaging and memo system had been one of the first additions Avon had ever made to Zen’s programme. “Yeh, but it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

Avon shot him a weary glance and took out the card. It was simple, black and white, a single ornate flower decorating the front. Inside, Vila had written:

“‘Come to the kitchen for breakfast tomorrow morning’?” Avon read out, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “Vila, I’ve been trying to fix this computer fault for _three days_. I’ll be lucky if I have time to _eat_ breakfast, let alone cook it.”

“You won’t be cooking.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Avon placed the card on the little shelf above his bed. “I’m not particularly fond of surprises.”

“Relax. Blake promised to take care of the computers tomorrow. You have the day off.”

Avon almost started off the bed. “Blake –!”

“Can’t do any worse than you’ve been doing, and you know it. Certainly not in the state you’re in. He might have some fresh ideas.”

Avon sank back down into the cushions, letting his eyes fall shut. “If I must, then.”

“Aren’t you going to undress?”

“Hm?”

“Or get under the covers?”

“Shut up, Vila.”

Vila chuckled, shrugging off his own shoes and socks. He pulled at a blanket Avon wasn’t fully lying on to free it – not that there was ever any shortage. Avon barely twitched when Vila tugged off _his_ socks, though he automatically settled closer when Vila slid onto the bed beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. From his breathing, he was already asleep.

  

Vila slipped away early in the morning while Avon was still fast asleep. He had barely reacted when Vila had untangled himself. There was a chance Avon might just sleep through the day – he _had_ done that before, but Vila would just tease him awake after noon if need be. In the meantime, he had things to put in place. Blake was waiting for him in the kitchen, everything prepared. It barely took them an hour, altogether, and then Vila was back in the corridor to Avon’s cabin, climbing up into a ventilation duct to watch in secret and relative comfort. Avon might be a while.

As it was, Avon was up earlier than Vila had expected, his door sliding open to reveal him dressed as casually as he ever got – a black shirt and the usual trousers and boots, his hair still wet from the shower. Vila could tell by the way he held himself that Avon was still exhausted, and he nearly tripped over the first item before he saw it – a synthetic flower that had reminded Vila vaguely of the real ones he’d seen back on Earth. He’d never been able to afford real flowers or synthetics, so he’d learned how to make them from the raw material. The people he’d decided to romance had always loved them – something only Vila could give them. Vila had made this one Avon’s favourite shade of blue.

Avon bent down to pick it up, running a curious hand over the petals, then looked up and down the corridor with a searching gaze. “Vila?”

Vila held his breath for a moment – but Avon wouldn’t see him. Apart from Vila, no one was flexible enough to get into these ducts, a fact he didn’t generally boast about, and Avon wouldn’t even think of them as potential hiding places.

True to plan, Avon set off in the direction of the kitchen. Ordinarily, they mostly took breakfast in the recreational room, where the food processor was – the kitchen was for preparing fresh food, which they rarely had time for. It was the perfect place for a private breakfast – none of the others would think to go there for food, and Blake would keep them away besides.

Vila slid from his hideout, carefully tiptoeing after Avon. He had just peered around the corner when Avon found the second item – a small, wrapped parcel: one of three. Vila hadn’t been able to figure out how to wrap _his_ present. Avon gathered the parcel up with an expression of calm curiosity, his eyes more awake than Vila had seen them in quite a while.

The next parcel was Blake’s, Vila knew – it was nowhere near as neat as the girls’, even though Blake had given it his best effort. Avon had figured that out, too, a smirk curling his mouth. Fortunately, the items were all on the small side, or Vila might have had to come out of hiding and offer his help to carry it all.

Vila hung back a little, just so Avon wouldn’t spot him, and heard Avon’s surprised laugh when he found the next thing before he had him back in sight. Avon had already picked it up, fingers exploring the soft fur, and toying briefly with the feather decoration suspended from one furry ear. “Vila…” Avon’s voice was soft, all smile. He turned around – and looked Vila straight in the eye. “Where did you get _this_?”

Vila gave up on hiding and came over with a grin of his own. “Professional secret. Don’t know why they produce toys if none of us ever got to play as children.” Vila ran his own hand through the exquisite fur, mussing it up. It was a beautiful plush toy – he couldn’t be sure what animal it was supposed to be, mostly it was just a ball with ears and a tail, but the workmanship was beautiful. Certainly not made for dirty children’s hands. Vila had always seen these in the Alpha shopping districts, but he had never found any in any of the Alpha households he’d broken into, even when he knew there were children. In those households, play was a regulated activity, and plush toys had no _purpose_. Probably they only made them for lower grades to stare at, mourning the fact they couldn’t afford them.

“Possibly so we would stop to stare through the windows, while our parents could complete their shopping in peace,” Avon said softly, almost echoing Vila’s own thoughts. There was a hint of sadness in his expression, but it fled when he looked back up at Vila with a smile, carefully balancing the toy on the other presents without squashing the flower. “Shall we?”

“After you.”

The next item was sitting just at the door to the kitchen, another neatly wrapped parcel. Avon passed the other items to Vila to pick it up, then keyed open the door – and froze on the threshold.

Vila saw the decorative lighting reflected in his eyes, and couldn’t contain his grin any longer. This, right there, was probably the closest he could get to Avon open-mouthed and speechless. Avon opened his lips, but there was no sound forthcoming, and he hadn’t even dropped his hand from the door control yet. Suddenly, Avon drew a heavy shuddering breath he seemed to have forgotten about needing – he wasn’t crying, was he?

Vila, suddenly worried, nudged his arm. “Avon?”

“Do you have _any_ idea how _expensive_ these are?” Avon asked, sounding breathless… and just a little awed.

“By now I think could guess, yeh,” Vila said. “Go on, go inside.”

Avon visibly shook himself, but his eyes didn’t stray from Vila’s present for a moment. The light of it wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the room, so Vila had organised some fairy lights to keep the mood – Blake had vetoed the candles. Their soft orange tone melted beautifully with the greenish blue shine of the present reflected in Avon’s eyes.

Avon absentmindedly placed the final parcel on the kitchen table and grouched down, one hand reaching out vaguely towards the present, not touching – of course not, there was no way to touch a hologram, not even one as fancy as this. Vila watched Avon-the-hologramatic-image’s face light up with a grin as he returned hologramatic-Vila’s, that hint of fondness mixed with pure mirth and mischievousness. It was only a small personalised hologram, with only an illusion of a three-dimensional effect – all Vila had been able to organise in the limited time he’d had – projected out of neat black and silver base rather like a photograph in a frame, only it was hyper-realistic and moving. Vila couldn’t claim he hadn’t stared at it for hours himself when he’d got it – at Avon’s face, mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t get enough of that with the real Avon, just that there was something mesmerizing about watching Avon smile at _him_ from an outsider’s perspective and  on a perfect loop, his smile blooming and falling, only to return a moment later.

Avon’s eyes – the real Avon’s eyes, Vila noticed, were entirely on hologramatic-Vila, and after the initial astonishment seemed to wear off, Vila found Avon mirroring his hologramatic counterpart in a bright smile. Avon flicked his eyes away from the holo-frame and towards Vila. “Thank you.”

Vila shrugged, unused to the raw gratitude. “It was nothing, really.”

“How did you get the recording?”

“I got Orac to do it. It was hard explaining to him what a candid shot was, let me tell you.”

Avon pushed himself back to his feet. “I can imagine.”

“But still, since it came from Orac in the first place, we can be sure the file was destroyed after the hologram was created.”

“Good.” Avon fell silent for a moment, his eyes once again caught by hologram.

Vila gave him a moment, arranging the other gifts on the table around the cake. It wasn’t a particularly fancy cake by appearances, though Vila had tried to make it more interesting to look at by decorating it with small fondant flowers. Making them hadn’t been that different making from synthetic flowers, really, and they were going to eat it, anyway.

“Unwrap your presents?” Vila prompted when he was done and settled down in a chair and Avon was still smiling at the hologram.

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to switch that off so you can concentrate?”

Avon blinked and looked up, seeming to take in the whole room for the first time. There was that slight sadness in his eyes again for a moment, and he wordlessly reached out to switch off the hologram. He looked beautiful in the soft orange light, not that Vila was about to tell him that. He knew when he got so far under Avon’s defences that he needed to back off – to give him space to pull himself together. Vila enjoyed getting glimpses under Avon’s armour, but he would never dare treat them as anything other than what they were: a complete privilege Avon afforded only Vila, and even then only on his own terms.      

“Still not fond of surprises?” Vila asked quietly, leaning back in his chair.

“They tend to generally not be as pleasant as this,” Avon said, pulling out his own chair. “Did you _have_ to tell all the others?”

“About your birthday?”

Avon nodded.

“I only told Blake the exact date, and he knew, anyway.”

Avon’s lips curled. “Yes. I remember.”

“The others only know it's sometime around now. I had to tell them why they should give your presents.”

“You do realise that… at my age, birthday parties–” Avon’s hand found the plush animal again, twirling the longer strands of fur between his fingers. “– and presents aren’t particularly common anymore.”

“Well, why not? It’s nice, getting stuff for free. You _do_ want them, don’t you?”

Avon left off the toy and laid his hand on the table for Vila to take, squeezing softly when he did. “Yes, Vila.”

“Though you might change your mind when you see what they are.”

Avon chuckled. “I’m more sceptical about the cake.”

“Hey, I can bake. Besides, I used almond.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Almond milk. Since you’re allergic to soy and all.”

Avon looked taken aback for a moment, extracting his hand from Vila’s. “Yes.”

“Didn’t think I knew that, did you.”

“How _do_ you know?”

“I like watching you. You always look at the soy milk as if it's done you personal injury.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I do.” He wasn't meeting Vila's eyes.

“Avon, are you all right?”

Avon smiled one of his smaller, softer smiles. “Yes. I’m sorry, Vila… just tired, and overwhelmed. I’m… not used to a particularly large circle of acquaintances, and certainly not the sort that would make the effort to arrange something like this.”

“That’s good, then. I was wondering if there was something unique about me.”

Avon reached across the table, catching his hand. “Oh, but there _is_. Vila, you know _that_ , at least, don’t you?”

“I know, Avon, don’t worry.” Vila pulled Avon’s hand towards him, placing a soft kiss on the knuckles. Avon, as usual, got that look of secretly pleased indulgence he always had when he thought Vila was being needlessly sappy.

“We have all day,” Vila said, letting go of Avon’s hand.  “What do you want to do?”

“Oh, _nothing_ sounds like a wonderful plan to me.” Avon leant back, his eyes scanning the small collection of presents, finally settling on Vila’s face. “For now, breakfast?”

“Right!” Vila scrambled up from his chair, getting a knife for the cake, two plates and their usual morning drinks – well, the drinks they had when they had time to indulge themselves, rather than Vila jugging down a juice with a shot of adrenalin just to stay on his feet and Avon burning his mouth on scalding hot coffee he only drank when he was in such a rush that he didn’t taste it anyway.

“There’s some of that almond milk left – do you want it in your tea, Avon?”

“No thanks.” Avon took the knife from Vila while he balanced the cups. “Do I have to cut the cake now?”

“You get to make a wish if you do.”

“If wishes were spaceships, Vila…”

Vila smirked, placing Avon’s cup in front of him. “Embezzlers and thieves would ride?”

“Something like that.”

Avon cut two slices, pushing the one from the edge, the one without any flowers, towards Vila and taking the other one for himself with a smirk. Any other day, Vila might have protested, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty of cake left. He might be able to convince Avon to save a slice for Blake, but he was unlikely to offer any to the others – it would just reveal the exact date of his birthday. Why Avon found it necessary to make _that_ such a jealously guarded secret, Vila really had no idea. And he probably didn’t want to know.

Avon took his time with breakfast. Not that there was anything wrong with that – Vila loved just sharing it with him, having the time to enjoy every bite and sip, conversation flowing leisurely between them – it was just that, back when Vila had birthday parties, he never could wait to open his presents. It was never anything fancy – if he wanted fancy, he’d have to steal it himself, and it was dangerous being seen with fancy things in the Delta sector. Still, it had been _surprises_ , for _him_ , from the people he cared about, and he didn’t want to wait and have cake while they were sitting there on the table, waiting for him.

Clearly, Avon was different. True, he had already seen Vila’s presents, and perhaps he cared less for the ones from the others – which was a nice thought, in its own way – but still.

Blake had been the one to collect the presents, so Vila had no idea what they were – had no idea if Blake knew, either. Vila had always known curiosity could be dangerous, but it wasn’t like the crew of the _Liberator_ meant Avon any harm – right?

He fidgeted in his chair, watching Avon drink the tea. Avon had leant back, completely relaxed for once, legs outstretched and both hands wrapped loosely around the warm cup. His eyes were closed. If he hadn’t been holding the cup perfectly steadily, taking the occasional swallow, Vila would have assumed he’d fallen asleep again.

“Avon?”

Avon opened one eye and crooked his eyebrow at him.

“Aren’t you going to open your presents?”

Avon smiled. “Is there a rush, Vila?” His tone was teasing.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Perhaps.”

“You always say that when you mean yes.”

Avon’s smile became a smirk. “Perhaps I do.” He sat up and put the cup down on the table. Reaching over, he tapped Blake’s imperfect green wrapping, not quite picking up the parcel. “Blake’s?”

“Yeh. No idea what’s in them, though.”

 “Well, I’m sure we will find out presently whether Blake has an eye for anything other than his revolution.” Avon’s fingers wandered on, picking up the more slender of the other two parcels, though he had to push the plush toy off it first. “What do you think?”

“Hm? Cally?”

“Yes.” Avon carefully unhooked the folds that kept the parcel wrapping together, unfolding it on the table. A longish plain oblique box was hidden within, tied with a single ribbon. There was a little card, which Avon glanced at briefly, then placed by the side, turning his attention to the box.

“What’s that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Avon pushed the ribbon off without untying it, and eased open the lid.

Vila watched his eyes gleam as he took in the contents, not being able to see them himself. “What? What is it?”

Avon sat the box back down on the table and twisted it around for Vila to see. The box seemed to be filled with a row of little paper pouches with thin brownish discs within them.

“What are those?”

“Chocolate, Vila.”

“Chocolate? But these are thin as paper!”

“Try one.”

Vila pulled out one of the little paper pouches, afraid the chocolate might break between his fingers, slid the disc out and placed it on his tongue. It dissolved slowly, a burst of delicious flavour – was that a hint of orange? Vila stared at Avon, wide-eyed. “That’s chocolate?”

“Yes – very expensive chocolate.” Avon closed the lid, folding the box back up loosely in the wrapping. “It seems the Auronar have a good taste in sweets.”

Vila hummed, the taste still lingering in his mouth. “You’re not having any?”

“Later.” Avon pulled over Jenna’s parcel, undoing the piece of string that held the wrapping together.

The nature of Jenna’s present was obvious at first glance – a portable chess set, rather like the one Vila had unearthed in the _Liberator_ ’s holds, only the figures of this set were delicately carved crystals, sparkling beautifully in the light of the fairy lights.

“It seems _luxury_ is the theme of the day,” Avon remarked dryly, though he handled the chess set with careful admiration.

“You’re not an easy man to buy presents for, you know,” Vila shot back, turning the black king between his fingers. It really was exquisite craftsmanship. One of the figurines alone might fetch a good price. “ _Wealth is the only reality_?”

Avon shrugged. “Which, I should think, is the reason you stole the animal and conned the maker of the hologram.”

“I paid for the hologram! Well, half of it.”

Avon grinned at him. “Well, shall we see what our esteemed leader contributed?”

Blake’s shoddy wrapping, it turned out, actually obscured the simple shape of the items within – two unmarked data cubes, at which Avon merely raised his brows before setting them aside, and an actual paper and cardboard book.

“What’s that?” Vila asked, trying to read the title upside down.

“A book.”

“I can see that, Avon. I’ve seen books before.”

“Have you?” Avon asked. He sounded distracted, his eyes lingering on the book cover, with his finger tracing the title. Eventually, he opened it to discover a small card, with a few lines in Blake’s handwriting. Reading it, Avon seemed to snap out of his sudden pensive mood, chuckling darkly. “Oh, very good, Blake.”

“What does he say?”

Avon lifted the card from the book, reading it out. “‘Avon - not everything has a double meaning. Enjoy. Happy Birthday. Blake.’”

“Double meaning?”

“Yes, I did wonder about his choice of book.” Avon replaced the card, closed the volume and slid it over to Vila.

“The Arthurian Legend? I loved those when I was a kid!”

“You would.”

“Knights in shining armour? Princesses and wizards? What’s not to love?”

For the first time that day, Vila saw Avon’s mouth twist into that particular cynic and cruel cast of his, and wished he could take his words back. “There is betrayal, and everyone dies in the end, Vila,” Avon said, and pulled the book from Vila’s hands, placing it with the other items.

Vila swallowed hard. “No wonder Blake said not to overthink it.”

“I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?” Avon’s gaze lingered for a moment on the book, unreadable emotions flickering in his eyes. When he lifted his head to look back at Vila, he was smiling again. “Still. They _are_ good stories.”

“So what do you want to do now?” Vila asked with overdone cheerfulness, desperate to break the strange mood that had settled over them.

“Going back to bed sounds rather appealing.” Avon pushed himself to his feet, his eyes lingering on the presents. He still looked tired, but the painful tension had fallen from his shoulders.

“You’ll need help carrying all these, of course,” Vila said, clambering to his feet himself. “Can’t leave them lying around for the others to find.”

“Naturally. But first–” Avon reached out, his hand brushing softly along Vila’s arm and sending a tingle down his spine. “–there’s one more present I’d like to collect.”

“Yeh? And what’s that?”

Avon moved his hand up to Vila’s shoulder, tilting his head slightly. “Kiss me, Vila?”

“That all?”

Avon nodded, his eyes shining with a smile. “You know me.”

“Weell, I suppose I can oblige…” And Vila settled a hand gently in Avon’s neck, toying with the strands of hair he found there, and pulled him in for a soft kiss.


End file.
